


Moving On

by mitsukai613



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: After Abbas takes over Masyaf and kills Altair's youngest son as an example, he and his eldest son flee for a small headquarters where Malik and Maria are currently staying. When they arrive, Malik rushes to them and kisses Altair in front of his son, who isn't certain what to think. Written for a request and prompt given by cptjackharkness1 on fanfiction.net.





	

Living in Masyaf, it was simple to assume that the Assassins were invincible. At times Darim's father alone could make it seem so; he was tall and broad, forever imposing and never less than masterful with a blade. Not to mention his mother Maria, and Malik, who'd been so close to his family for so long that he'd long since begun to call him uncle. The two of them were the only ones he'd ever seen able to challenge his father's might, and the mere threat of facing them should've been enough to turn most who would dare threaten them away.

When his brother Sef was born, Darim helped raise him on stories of their family's strength; at ten, the boy liked nothing better than to be told of the more exciting missions his family had gone on, though the less happy tales Darim had once been told were notably never told. He supposed it was for the best. Sef was young and soft—more suited to scholarly work than to the Assassin's training Darim received. Even more than Darim, the boy felt safe in Masyaf. The passage of time made the illusion of it being an untouchable sanctuary even stronger for them both.

He heard the rumors told of their family, of course, of less than seemly activities between his parents and Malik behind closed doors, but he believed not a word of them. His parents did not always or even often share a bed, and it was true that Malik was around more than may have been appropriate, but all they'd faced together… Darim doubted that anyone, even himself, could fully understand the bond they all shared. They lived a comfortable life, and in that comfortable life, Darim did not believe that any outside force could ever end it.

Darim never considered a force from the inside, a betrayal. He had never liked Abbas, not really. There had been a cruelty to his eyes whenever he encountered Darim's father, a hatred that Altair would never really acknowledge no matter how many times Darim expressed his worries. He would only ever say that there was reason for it, that nothing could be done, that it would be alright. His father was a wise man, but even Malik would say that he could be a fool in equal measures. The Apple his father studies so often had power that Darim knew no one understood, power enough to change the world about them with ease, power enough that few should ever grasp it. His father… Darim did not want to speak ill of him but in the moment, he could blame no one else for Abbas stealing it. He could blame no one else for… he swallowed, staring down at his horse's neck and trying to hold back the tears stinging his eyes.

It wasn't his father's fault, he knew that, just as he knew his father's guilt over it all. He rode beside Darim now, staring forward, jaw clenched and hands too tight around the reigns. They'd fled their home like fugitives, left behind everything and everyone. It was only luck that Malik had gone to some hidden headquarters a few weeks earlier for some inspection or another; they knew, at least, that it would be safe there. Altair had gotten Maria to escape there hardly more than an hour after… Darim choked. His father looked over at him, eyes hard and alien.

"It's alright to cry," he said, voice rough and low, "Your brother…." He tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. Darim looked at him and knew he wouldn't cry, not in front of him. Despite that it was simple to tell that he was only holding himself together by threads. Even as far from Masyaf as they were then, he would never allow himself to look so weak in front of his eldest son. Now his only son. Darim laughed, loud and for too long, laughed until his voice broke and he was sobbing into his horse's mane. Sef was gone. Killed as an example. His brother, his brother who he'd promised would be safe, would be happy, would grow old and do so out of danger. He hated Abbas, wished he could turn around and kill him himself, but the Apple had given him the loyalty of the other Assassins and Darim knew he'd never get close enough to end him. His stomach clenched and he wished he could be sick.

His father didn't offer him comfort and Darim was glad of that; had he tried, he knew he'd have lashed out, lain blame where it didn't belong. Later, when they arrived at the headquarters, he knew his father would take him aside and let him scream and cry and comfort him as best as he was able. Now, though, now he needed only to call his grief to the empty desert sky. He wept until he felt weak and numb and then he simply stared ahead as his father had been. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to be said. His mother and Malik joked often about how similar he and his father were, and the thought was enough to nearly send him to tears again, though this time he held himself back. If he truly were like his father, he would need to be just as strong. One day, after all, they would return to Masyaf to take it back. One day, Abbas would pay for spilling his brother's blood.

When they arrived at the headquarters, they'd hardly gotten their horses stabled and gone inside before Malik was rushing towards them with the single-minded determination Darim had always known him for. He thought that perhaps they'd both be interrogated, led somewhere for tea and made to explain in detail everything that had happened so Malik could come up with a plan to fix it. That didn't happen. Rather, Malik threw his arm about his father's shoulders and pulled him close, pressing their lips together desperately, as if he had to do it or die. Darim couldn't hold back the sound he made. His father held Malik with the same desperation, forehead settled in the crook of his neck when their lips parted.

"Maria told me what happened," he heard Malik whisper, "I was so frightened that you and Darim would be taken from me as well." Darim had never heard Malik sound so uncontrolled; his voice was wavering, and his hand, still clutched in Altair's robe, was shaking violently. His father responded, but Darim could hardly hear him over the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

He didn't want to believe that all the rumors he'd heard had been true. He didn't want to believe that they would betray his mother this way. He didn't want to believe that everything he'd ever known had been so false, not after he'd already lost so much. He thought that if he closed his eyes, that if he looked at the world through the strange animal sight his father had taught him, he would simply see everything crumbling and his father and Malik alight with the angry red of enemies.

"Father?" he asked, and hated himself for sounding so weak, so like the child he could no longer be. "Father, uncle, what is this?" The both of them stiffened suddenly, parting from each other as if his voice had burned them, and he felt a bitter satisfaction from that. All that had happened, and this was what they chose to do? Betray him, betray mother, betray God? The anger felt like lead in his stomach, but he welcomed even that over the sickness.

"I… Darim, I did not… none of us intended you to discover this this way, especially not after all that has happened." His voice was hollow. Malik reached out to take him by the shoulder, but Darim jerked away from the touch.

"Discover what? That you are… that you have betrayed mother with a man I've called uncle? That you are…," even in his anger, he could not call his father wrong, or disgusting, though he knew they were the words he should've used. Sef would have been angry with him for it.

"There has been no betrayal," Malik murmured, staring him straight in the eye, not ashamed despite how weak and how tired he looked. "Come, this is not the place to discuss this. Let us go sit with your mother and we will explain. Then we will all get some rest, as I think we need it, and think of what is to be done next." Darim hated how reasonable Malik tried to make this seem, how normal. He wanted to scream and to rage, and to argue with them and run away and kill Abbas and beg the Apple to return his life to the way it had been before. And then he saw that his father was crying.

It was not loud, nor even particularly open, but still there were tears dripping down his cheeks and he scarcely looked like he could breathe. Darim felt all the anger leave him, and he deflated.

"I… alright, uncle," he said, the endearment slipping from him without thought. Malik led them both deep into the headquarters, hand clutching Altair's elbow as they entered a small study where Maria sat, staring out the window.

"I believe it is time to tell Darim the truth of his birth," Malik said, flat as he was able, and Maria was on her feet in the barest of instances, rushing to them and taking them all in her arms. That was the moment that Altair truly shattered. He near enough to collapsed in her hold, and Malik and Maria both held him tightly, whispering words of comfort into his ear. Darim recalled suddenly that he'd never seen his mother and father kiss as Malik's lips brushed against his father's cheek. He felt like a fool and realized that he was crying again too moments before he was also pulled into the huddle, though by who he wasn't certain.

He didn't know how long they stood there like that, comforting one another, before at last they all settled and sat around the room. Darim didn't speak. He didn't think he could. Finally, though, his mother broke the silence.

"Your father and I have always been very good friends," she began, voice soft and almost uncertain. "We loved each other, if not in the way it was expected we should. He saved my life when he gave me a way to leave the Templars, and he and Malik have been more family to me than anyone else I've ever known. I would trade them for nothing. They, though... I simply wished them to be as happy as they'd let me be. They….," here she paused herself, seeming uncertain how to continue. Malik, though, quickly took over, Altair's hand curled in his.

"Altair and I have loved each other for years, though again not in the way it is expected we should. We've hidden it, of course, for we know well that what we feel for one another is forbidden, even among our order. It… we knew that we could not have a family openly, and so we asked Maria to help us." Darim's father finally looked him in the face again, eyes once more blazing, once more strong and solid and the man Darim always admired above all others.

"Maria has been good to us; better than either of us deserve. She agreed to bare children as if they were mine and her own, that we might have a family between us all. You and your brother were great blessings, and we'd planned to tell you both the truth once you were older, but after everything… you deserved to know sooner, the both of you. I am sorry for that, and for… for all of this. We will make Abbas pay." Darim could see the strange pieces of his life, everything that he'd known was odd but always ignored, fall into an achingly clear image. He'd known a lie, that was true, but in the same way… hadn't he and his brother always been happy?

He knew he had been. He'd been raised with more love than he could say, from all three of them, and they'd given the same love to his brother. It wasn't… he still didn't understand, not really, still wasn't certain how to feel about the truth of the relationship between his father and Malik, but he had no doubt that they both cared for him deeply, just as Maria did. He had no doubt that they had been a family. He swallowed, getting to his feet and rushing towards them, wrapping all three of them tightly in his arms though he cried no more.

Unorthodox as their family may have been, he loved them all no less than he ever had, and Abbas had taken a key piece. Abbas had killed his brother, made them flee their home, destroyed the life he'd loved so dearly.

"Yes, father, we will. I am not… this is much for me to understand, but I know that you all are my family still. Let us prepare to take our home back." Just then, he felt more like the son of Master Assassins than he ever had before. He wasn't numb, but solid and determined. The ache in his heart would be his strength, and this continuing love his determination. Altair laughed, face softening with warmth as he finally allowed himself to relax.

"Indeed," he said, taking Maria's hand as Malik pressed another light kiss to his lips. "We are Assassins still. It's time to ready ourselves." And so they would. Darim's life was not as simple as he imagined it would be, and he knew he would never forget his brother's loss, but it was still his life, and he would fight at his family's side to have it back.


End file.
